Not So Fairytale Princess
by NessNess
Summary: Bella Trevanni meets René at her grandmother's Black and White ball, after Mia, unbeknowest to Bella, told him to dance with her. Bella thinks that he's cool, but is afraid to persue him since she thinks he's Mia's boyfriend. Rated for swearing and maybe
1. Chapter One

Um, yea. I was hit with the idea for this fic when I read the fifth princess diaries book, and read that Mia told René to dance with Bella. I know that I got A LOT of things wrong in here, but whatever. It's Fanfiction.

You may have read this fic a while ago, under the penname First Of The Geeks. It's still me, only... I can't post this under that sn because certain people who like my L/J fics would kill me. Ergo, I put it here. Isn't that loverly?

Anyhoo, I really like the idea of Bella and René, and since you are reading this, you must think it's even a little interesting. So yea.

Power to you. 

Um... Read and Review, please! I would love you forever... just.. not like that. ^_~

Peace

A Not-so Fairytale Princess

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It was a calm night, the moonlight filtering in through the large windows, the red satin drapes billowing in the wind. There was a sweet smell in the air, one that smelled like flowers and water, not an all too bad mixture, if I can so. 

It really was too bad that I was sharing such a pretty night all alone. 

Well, ok, so I wasn't really sharing it _alone_. There were plenty of people at the Black and White ball that my grandmother, Contessa Elena Trevanni, had organized, but, I am sad to report, none of them were overly interested in me.

So there I was, standing in the corner like some kind of reject, all the while watching people as they danced around the ballroom, smiling and looking happy. I could see my Grandmother Elena walk around the room and talk to guests and such, all the while keeping an eagle eye on me. 

Yup, I really was my grandmother's favorite child.

After what seemed like hours, my Grandmother Elena walked up to me, her fake party smile gone, her bass-like face now holding an expression of great disgust. She stalked towards me and said, quite rudely, "Bella, I must introduce you to Count Vernon. A good friend of mine from school."

I turned towards her, a scowl on my face. "Please tell me that he's not another old accountant who talks all day about his 41K. I don't think I can take another minute of," I lowered my voice, " 'Just remember, Princess Bella, that your portfolio is a something that will help you in life. To get a head...." 

My Grandmother Elena cut my off with a glare, and said, "The heir to the thrown of Monaco doesn't go parading around saying such things like that, Bella, about very nice," She didn't mention rich, " people. And especially," the glare she sent me was filled with so much malice, that I had to fight back a shudder. "Not about Count Edward Vernon.

"You will," she continued, leaning down and looking me strait in the eye, "march over to Edward, exchange some pleasantries, and then take him up on his offer for a dance, should he ask for one. Do you understand?" She finished, but we both knew the answer. 

"Yes, Grandmother Elena." I sighed as I walked away, my black dress hitting my claves. 

When people think of princesses, the first thing that comes to mind is probably a really sappy scene from Cinderella or Snow White, or some other animated piece of crap by Disney. But to tell you the truth, like wasn't all fun and games, or meeting handsome princes and having them sweep you off your feet. In stead, it was more like you met them, talked, and then they forgot about you the next day. 

Well, at least that's how it was with me. For some other princesses, such as Princess Amelia from Genovia, things were probably a little different.

I wasn't exactly what you would call pretty. I was short, with very strait brown hair, light blue eyes, and too full lips. Occasionally people would tell me that I was charming or good-looking, but I knew that they were only saying to it get on my good side.

Count Vernon was a tall man with a thick black moustache, and slightly graying black hair. He was wearing a black tuxedo, just like every other man at the ball, yet his tie and shirt were white.

Oh, he was an accountant, no doubt about it.

"Count Vernon?" I asked in my sugary sweet princess voice. My grandmother would have been so upset had she heard me use that voice, but hey, I had a problem with authority. Just ask my old teachers at my ex-boarding school.

"Yes?" He replied in a deep voice. 

"Hello, I'm Bella Trevanni." I held out my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He kissed the top of my hand and let go of it before he said, "It's a pleasure to meet you too." He smiled. "So, how was your Christmas in Monaco? Fine, I hope?"

My smile became pained at the mention of Christmas, but I was happy, at least, to know that my little stint hadn't gotten around the entire world. Yet. "Yes, it was, thank you." 

After that, there really wasn't much left to say, and the count and I lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. I was just about to excuse myself, when my grandmother came up to me and Count Vernon and said, very formally, " Excuse us, Edward, but my granddaughter and myself are needed somewhere else. But perhaps we shall see you later." She grasped my arm and pulled me to her, the very picture of grandparent-granddaughter love.

I tried not to be sick.

It became very obvious, as soon as we got close enough to our destination, as to why Grandmother Elena pulled me out of the conversation with Count Vernon (not that minded) so quickly. 

There was Queen Clarisse Renaldo standing at a table, surrounded by a very tall man and woman. I recognized the tall and skinny girl as Princess Amelia, yet the man next to her I couldn't really place.

He was tall, with dark hair, and much lighter green eyes. His close cropped hair reached the collar of his black tuxedo, yet he looked slightly out of place with his black under shirt. Or maybe it was the lack of tie, who knows?

"Clarisse," my grandmother said in her sickening queenly voice as we got towards them. She did an air kiss with her that made me look away with a grin on my face. I don't think that anyone saw it. "It's so good to see you again."

"I know," Clarisse Renaldo replied, a fake smile on her face. "It's been too long." She turned to the young woman next to her, her fake smiling vanishing very quickly.

Kind of reminded me of mine and my grandmother's relationship....

"Contessa, may I please present to you my granddaughter, Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo?" Next to her, I saw Amelia give a quick look that I think no one but myself glimpsed.

All of us knew who Princess Amelia was. I mean, it was kind of like a fairytale princess coming to real life, gracing the world with her beauty. Though why she looked like a snowflake was beyond my comprehension; I would think that between white and black, I would certainly choose the latter.

"And of course you know Amelia's beau, Prince Pierre René Grimaldi Alberto." Next to her, both Amelia and René turned quickly towards her, both with shocked expressions on their faces. Meanwhile, Amelia's face heated up, and I was suddenly reminded of a Popsicle...

My grandmother than cocked a look towards Amelia, assessing her. She must have agreed with everyone else that she was beautiful, and that, of course, led to her believing that she was with René. 

Life really was too easy for beautiful people. 

"So that rascal René has finally been snatched up, and by _your _granddaughter, Clarisse. How satisfying that must be for you." Then my Grandmother Elena shot me a look of pure malevolence that caused me to cringe. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm tough (Well, ok, not really. I just have a problem with authority), but my grandmother is one scary person. Especially with her new Michael Jackson fixation on plastic surgery....

"Isn't it though, Elena?" Queen Clarisse asked smugly, knowing that she one over my grandmother; I couldn't even get a date for my Junior prom. Once she was done saying this, Clarisse turned to René and Amelia, her smile still on her face. "Come on, children," she said, and walked away.

Amelia, as they walked away, was beat red. René was looking mildly amused, like the whole matter was just one whole skit on Saturday Night Live. Once they stopped, I saw Amelia throw her hands up and say something that made Clarisse wave her hand. After a moment, René went off towards the table with all the drinks, and got two glasses of champagne.

I was about to make a remark about the whole scene to my grandmother, when I saw that the woman in question was shooting me another glare. I repressed a flinch, and opened my mouth to speak, when all of a sudden, Grandmother Elena was pulling me by the arm towards some old man (And yes, he _did_ look like another accountant).

"Marlon!" She cried enthusiastically, giving him a chaste kiss on the check. "It's been far too long!" This line I had heard too many times, and it was really getting old. I was about to say my piece and get this dreaded meeting over with, when all of a sudden, my grandmother entered me into the picture.

"Have you met my granddaughter, Bella Marie Annabelle Giovanna Trevanni? She's quite the actress, over at her school Georgetown Honors." She forgot to mention the whole fact that I was going to Georgetown Honors only because of the fact that I was kicked out of my old finishing school. "Plus, she got an early acceptance to Oxford. Going to major in..." He words drifted off as I watched a couple dance.

Amelia, despite her good looks and height, wasn't very graceful, moving instead like a new born calf that didn't know what to do with it's many limbs. She paled in comparison to René when it came to dancing, so they looked rather awkward. But they did make a handsome couple.

I was still watching when "Marlon" turned towards me and bowed, grabbing my hand and kissing it. I dreaded what he was about to say, but, somehow, I knew that I couldn't get out of it.

"Would you care to dance, princess?" He asked me, straitening. He was only about six inches taller than me, standing somewhere around five foot six. He probably understood what it was like to be short as well, and perhaps we could talk about something interesting.

But then again, he _was _an accountant. 

Since I hadn't answered right away, and "Marlon" was still smiling at me, waiting for an answer, my grandmother took it to herself to answer for me. Too bad it wasn't the answer I wanted to hear. 

"Yes, Prince Trusé. Bella would be honored to dance with you. I'll go mingle with the other guests, and you two can share a dance." She waved as she walked away. "Good bye, till later."

I stared after her, a tight smile on my face. Thanks, Grandmother. Thanks a whole lot.

"May I have this dance?" The prince asked me, holding out his arm. I wanted to know if he was deaf, because hadn't my grandmother already said 'yes' on behalf of me?

"Yes," I said as politely as I could, look up at him. I took his arm, and let him lead out to the floor. I noticed some of the smiles that I got from people, the largest from some man wearing a turban. 

Sometimes life was just plain weird.

I wasn't very good at dancing, since I was so small in height, but I knew that I was better than Amelia. That, at least, fortified me, and I was able to dance with as much confidence as I could muster.

Now, I know that I'm not the greatest dancer in the world, and it took pretty much all of my concentration not to step on my partners' feet. So I wasn't exactly happy when Marlon Trusé started talking to me.

And yes, you guessed it, it _was _about my 41K. 

I answered a little bit, only when it was my cue to. Mostly I just nodded my head as I looked around.

Since I had started dancing with the prince towards the middle of the song, people who I had seen dancing earlier were still dancing, yet most of them were looking bored.

One such couple was Amelia and René, only there weren't looking bored so much as tired. I noticed that, as they talked, Amelia had a wistful look on her face. Just as I was about to look away, Amelia turned her head, and all of a sudden I whipped my head around, my long brown hair flying into my face; I hadn't wanted to leave it up, and even though my grandmother protested, there really wasn't much she could do about it.

After a few more moments in which Marlon kept talking and I kept grunting in response, the song ended. I thanked him and walked away, looking for a nice corner that I could hide in. I found it, and started towards it when the band started another tune.

On my way towards it, I grabbed a glass of champagne and strode towards the dark corner that would hide me from my grandmother for long enough. I was just sinking into them when I heard a deep voice ask me, "Would you like to dance?"

I turned around quickly again, this time my hair under control. I felt my black dress hit my claves, and for once I was thankful that I was so short; he probably wouldn't be able to see my blush so well from up there.

"Er..." I said, stalling for time. "Sure..." I answered slowly, setting my glass down on the floor. Hey, even I knew that it was very unprincessy, but hey, what can I say? I was probably as unprincessy as any person was, and I was one.

"Ok then," he said and grabbed my hand, all the while leading me towards the dance floor. All the way there, I kept my head down, not wanting to see any of the sappy smiles that I knew people would be giving me.

Being a Princess sucked.

We got to an open place on the floor, and got into the, now, familiar stance that came with dancing. I refused to look at René, instead choosing to look at other people. I noticed my grandmother talking with some woman, and Clarisse talking with a much older man. I didn't see Amelia anywhere.

I danced with René, concentrating on my feet now more than ever; it wasn't everyday that I danced with a guy that was my age, instead of someone who could be my father. I wasn't even listening to him when he started talking. 

"So, I heard you were kicked out of finishing school." I looked up at him, and saw that his green eyes were pools of deep cynical laughter. I didn't even try to be polite when I answered.

"Yea, and I heard that you wear pink G-strings." I replied, still looking around. I seemed to think that the ceiling was just the most fascinating thing that had ever been built.

Suddenly, I felt the entire world moving, and I realized, belatedly, that René was laughing. Silently, so as not to cause too much attention. It wasn't really working though.

After a moment in which René regained his composure, the pace slowed down in the music, and René pulled me to him, his hand resting at the small of my back. I was forced to wrap my arms around his shoulders.

His warm breath danced along my ear, moving the hair along my forehead. His breath had a minty quality to it, unlike Marlon who had smelled a lot like pickled onions. I relaxed in his arms as we swayed to the music, and he didn't even seem bothered about it.

As we danced, we talked a bit, both of us talking in hushed whispers. We talked about mostly nothing, conversations ending with me saying my usual dumb things, causing him to laugh. Midway through the dance, I leaned my head on his shoulder.

I was sad when the song ended. 

Once it did, I led René towards my corner, picking up my glass from off of the floor. René got one from a waiter that was walking around with a tray. 

"So," René said to me as we leaned against the wall, our glasses in our hands. "Tell me about yourself."

I shrugged. "Nothing much to say, I'm afraid. I'm just your average, everyday princess."

"Minus the finishing school part?" He asked, smiling.

"Yea, but at least I don't wear pink G-strings." I grinned over at him, the bubbles from the champagne tickling my nose.

"Touché," he replied, laughing, and he clicked his glass with mine. 

There was a comfortable silence, and I looked around the room. I noticed Marcella Marceline, the twenty-year-old princess of Angoria, was talking with her fiancé, Jonathon Winters, a teacher at one of the schools in her country. The scandal of Marcella and Jonathon had spread like wildfire, as she had been betrothed to a man of royal lineage, but had eloped with Jonathon instead. They didn't go out in public much, so it was kind of appealing to have them at the ball.

"So..." I looked over at the sound of his voice. "How are you liking this party?"

I snorted. "_Party_? Are you insane? This isn't even as much as fun as a Barney concert." I looked up at him. "_'Where is Middle Finger? Where is Middle Finger? Here I am. Here I am....'_" I was cut off from finishing my song by René's laughing. 

After a few moments, René started choking. Once I realized that it wasn't letting up, I smacked him on the back a few times. "Hey, René! Don't loose consciousness; I don't do mouth to mouth on the first date." This, as it turns out, wasn't the right thing to say either. Finally, I just decided to leave him clutched over, holding his stomach, and not do anything about it.

After about five minutes, René came back up for air. "Thanks for trying to save me from almost certain death. I'm forever in your debt." 

I grinned up at him. "Any time." René glared at me in mock indignation for a moment, but then we, once again, fell into a comfortable silence. I had to repress another grin.

Not to sound sappy or anything, but it was nice, for once, to have someone my age there.

After a while, my grandmother walked past up, my shawl in her hands. It was time to go. 

"Come on, Bella," she said, wagging the garment in my face. "We really must leave. You have rehearsal tomorrow."

I nodded my head, sighing as I turned toward René. "Well, it was nice meeting you," I said, holding out my hand. He took it and placed a kiss on it like almost every other man in the ballroom did, but for some reason, it meant more to me.

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Dammit, Bella, I berated myself. _You share one dance and talk for a while, and instantly you're smitten. Get a grip!_

"You too, Bella," he replied softly. "Perhaps I'll see you around sometime."

"Maybe," I said as I walked away from him. "Maybe."

As I headed into the limo, I wondered at the change in me. Since when did I care what happened with guys and myself? Especially with guys who I have no chance of getting together with?

Still, it was nice to have a good time at a ball for once, instead of having to talk and dance with old men who didn't even know what was interesting to a seventeen year old girl.

It really was too bad that René had a girlfriend.

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Well, there ya go! The first chapter to the first Bella and René story out there. Well, actually, it's really the only Bella story that I've seen at all...

Anyhoo, I'm not so sure that I like this chapter. It seemed like I was babbling in more than a few parts, and I'm pretty sure that I got more than a few mistakes in here, but I'm too lazy to Spellcheck, so yea.

And sorry if it came off sounding like a Mary Sue. ::shudder:: I SWEAR TO GOD THAT IT WOULD HAPPEN AGAIN!!

Oh, and if you find any mispellings or errors, tell me, and I'll give you a cookie. Everyone likes cookies. ^_~

Peace, my little friend. 

Melissa 


	2. Chapter Two

"Fry-Stack!" A distinctly female voice called into the bathroom, sounding annoyed. "Are you ever gonna come out? P-Tree is pretty pissed about you showing up late, and spending about a half an hour in the bathroom is not help, ya know."

I knew that Miss Petreka was upset with me about being late, but my sadistic grandmother made me stay almost a half an hour later than usual for my weekly 'Lessons'. You know, where she critiqued everything that was wrong about my life, and then made a big production by saying things like, "Oh, Anne would have done _so_ much better. Too bad she's younger than you." 

Why couldn't I have been blessed with a normal, cookie-baking, apron-wearing grandmother, instead of my bass-resembling one? Sometimes life was just cruel.

"I'm coming!" I shouted back to Ren as I zippered up my costume. It was the first of the five dress rehearsals that we were going to have, and my out-fit annoyed the Hell out of me; it was a short black dress that reached just about mid-thigh and plunged low in the back, showing a lot of skin. Couple this with all the make-up I had to wear, and I looked like a twenty dollar whore. Good thing my grandmother hadn't seen it, or else she'd have blow an artery or something.

I slowly opened up the stall door, pausing only for a second as I debated whether or not I _really _wanted to be in this play. After heavily weighing everything, I decided that it would probably just be best to get it over with.

"Whoa," Ren said as soon as I walked out. "What the Hell happened to Fry-Stack? Did the freakin' pod people come and steal her or something? 'Cause you look _hot_ man." Hearing her saw that, I gave er a funky look. "Hey, I was just trying to be the supportive friend that I should be. It isn't my fault that I ended up sounding like a lesbian."

I laughed at Ren's comment, but the laughter died when I got a good look at her. On a good day, Ren wore baggy pants that could pass for a flea circus, a shirt that could pass for a dress, and boots that could pass for canons. The Ren in front of me looked like so such 'slob', as my grandmother would say. In fact, she looked pretty respectable. Well, almost, anyway.

"Dude," I said, taking a good look at her face; she was wearing none of her usual make-up. "You don't look like you just came out of the ground anymore. It's kinda... weird." And it was. I could actually make out that she had blue eyes and tan skin. 

"Yea, well, tell that to P-Tree. She said I couldn't," she put on the high voice that sounded _just_ like our director, "'_look like some bum off the street. This is a respectable theatre. We can't have our good name sullied_." She shook her head and said, "God, that woman is such a bitch."

"Only to you. You're the one who gave her the nick-name. Not everyone wants one, you know." Ren had this weird habit of giving everyone a nick-name.. whether they wanted one or not. I was called 'Fry-Stack' after my lack of height, Miss Petreka was 'P-Tree', and our friend Dave was 'Kansas.'. The names varied on the mood she was in, or what movie she had just seen. It would be interesting to see what she would give René.

As soon as this thought was out of my head, I instantly berated myself. I had promised myself that I wasn't going to think about him. He was this gorgeous, nice prince, and I was.. well, I was this smart-ass of a princes that got kicked of finishing school. Besides, he had a girlfriend. If I had any thoughts of doing anything with him, there was always Mia to consider.

"Fry-Stack, something on your mind?"

I looked over at my best friend, wondering whether or not to tell her about my slight infatuation with the notorious play-boy prince René. I decided not to, as she probably knew nothing about him anyway, instead going for the whole 'false smile' thing.

"No, everything is just peachy. If anything is wrong, it's this dress." I shrugged helplessly. "I'm afraid to _move_; if I was showing more skin, I'd probably be breaking a law... or at least be getting accepted into a nudist colony."

Ren let out a laugh that sounded false to me, and lead me out to the stage. She wasn't going to press things any further. Well, at least not for now.

~~~

As soon as I stepped onto the stage, I could tell three things. One, was the P-Tree was pretty peeved with me; Two was that everyone was in costume; and Three was that Dave really liked my new look.

"Whoa," he said I went over to my place for the scene. We were supposed to be in a night-club, and he was my boyfriend. This was the scene where we got into a major fight. "What the Hell happened to Fry-Stack? She looks hot."

"That's exactly what I said," Ren told him, getting into the conversation. The first day met Ren, she pulled me aside, pointed to Dave and said, 'That guy over there is mine, so paws off, princess'. She liked him pretty badly, but it seemed like he had a crush on me or something. Although _why_ was beyond my comprehension. 

In response to their comment on my outfit I rolled my eyes and said, kind of annoyed, "Why is it so hard for someone to think that I can be good-looking for once? I may not be some fairy-tale princess that you always see in movies, but I can look good once and a while."

"I never said you couldn't," Ren hastened to assure me, just as Dave said, "You always look good. Today is just different."

"Whatever," I answered, and sat down in the booth that was being used for this scene. Both of them followed me, probably to pester me some more, but Miss Petreka said that the scene needed to start, and they both had to go to their spots. 

~~~

"Mom, I'm home!" I yelled as I stepped into my doorway. I lived in a penthouse in one of the most expensive apartments in New York. The walkway was all done in black marble and mirrors, and just looking at it sometimes made my head spin. And since I had a headache (listening to P-Tree sing in her high scratchy voice can get annoying after a while), the walls weren't really helping. 

"Alright, Darling," my mother called as she stepped out of the kitchen. "No need to shout." My mother was tall and had brown hair and brown eyes. She had married my father, the crown prince of Monaco, when she was just eighteen. When I was younger, I liked to think that they married out of love, but I later learned that they were betrothed at birth.... and that my grandmother didn't like her. 

I dropped my messenger bag on the ground and then stepped over it on my way to my mother. I kissed her on the cheek and smiled up at her. "Hello Mother."

"Bella," she acknowledged. "Go change your clothes; you're father is coming home tonight. And pick up your bookbag!" She hollered as I made my way to the stairs. "How many times do I need to tell you?"

"Obviously more than once," I muttered as I picked up my backpack and slid it into the closet. Once it was securely in there, I ran to the stairs and bounded up them. 

"No running in the house!"

Hearing my mother's condescending tone, I stopped running, instead choosing to stomp up them. 

"Stop sulking!" 

"Great mom," I grunted as I opened the door to my bedroom. "Nice to know you're always there for me." I walked over to my closet and yanked open the door. Bright colors fought for my attention, and I had half a mind to close the door before my headache got worse. But I knew that I needed to look good for my father, so I picked out a pale pink dress and dragged it on over my head, grimacing the entire time. 

I ran a brush through my hair, and put on a little make-up. I thought I looked like a demented lollypop, but then again, maybe that was just my imagination. After changing my entire outfit, I picked out a pair of high-healed shoes and stuffed my feet into them. Once I was certain that I couldn't recognize myself, I walked down the stairs. 

__

I go from dress, to normal clothes, to dress, to back into normal clothes.. only to get back into a dress, I thought gloomily as I walked down the stairs. _And all in one days' time. I feel like a freakin' prostitute. _

Apparently, my mother didn't know of my thoughts, for as soon as I walked into the living room, she smiled broadly and got up off the couch. "You look beautiful, darling," she crooned as she gave me a slight kiss on the cheek; close enough to let me know that she was thinking about it, but far enough that she didn't think I was important enough. "Although that color is all wrong for you. We're going to need to go shopping this weekend. Margery!" She yelled into the kitchen where our maid was preparing dinner. "Make a note, will you dear?"

"Yes Mrs. Trevanni, I'll get to that straight away." Margery was our newly imported maid from Monaco. My mother wouldn't have anyone other than a native for her maid. I heard her washing her hands, and then she walked over to the island. I knew she was scribbling down what my mother wanted on a pad of paper. Bored, I turned my head back over towards my mother. 

My mother let out a lady-like sigh that told me that she wasn't at all please. "Good help is _so_ hard to find these days." She folded her hands over the lap of her baby blue and looked demure and placid.

"Good help?" I sputtered, hardly daring to believe it. Margery did what was expected of her and then some. And my mother said she wasn't good enough? What was this nonsense? 

I asked my mother these questions, and she just shook her head and look astonished at my behavior. "That is hardly something the princess of Monaco should be going around saying. I am appalled." I noticed how she didn't answer my questions. 

I opened my mouth to ask her why she and my grandmother didn't get along when they were so alike, but I was cut off from the door opening up and a loud voice calling out, "Hello, is anyone here?"

It was my father, the Crown Prince of Monaco. 

And he couldn't have come at a better time. 

~~~~

Well, what did you think? Originally, I was just going to have this be a six chapter fic, but i decided that I was going to make it longer.. delve deeper into her psyche.. Ok, I sound like a dork. So, I'll just tell you this; I like the idea of this fic, and I'm going to go farther into it, OK? OK! 

Also, I've started thinking of making this into a sort of series... The Plothole Theatre. HeHe. I'm going to write two more fics with two other lesser-known males from the Princess Diaries series.. That Justin dude from the fourth book (think smoky eyelashes. :P), And Josh Richter... HE FINALLY BROKE UP WITH LANA! YAY!! 

Ok, glad that's over. Hope you like this chappy.. Bella's personality changed a bit... she just seemed too.. Well, she just wasn't tough enough. She was a bit of a goof-off. So yea, decided that had to change. But other than that, what did you think? 

REVIEW CHILD!!

Melissa


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